Cutler, Nick Cutler
by NonyMouse
Summary: The early life of Nick Cutler. Someday, they would all see how clever he was.
1. Chapter 1

Useless. Annoying. Stupid. Loser.

These were the words people used to describe Nick Cutler. Ever since his school days, when he had been the weird kid with a stutter who would rather sit inside and watch people than play with the other boys, people had despised him. The way he walked, the way he spoke, with a stutter and a hint of an accent that screamed all too loudly that he was poor, the state of his clothes that said the rest; all of it was fair game for mockery. So, he avoided the other children, found clever ways to sneak home and clever ways to get away from them. He made teachers like him, and told them nasty things about the boys who would pick on him so that they would get in trouble. Still everyone else hated him, and he hated them right back.

Rachel, a pretty girl he met in a bar one night, saw something of worth in him. It made him glow with pride when she smiled at him, and the day he proposed and she accepted, he thought he could have died and not regretted anything at all. She was an practically an angle in his eyes. The voice of schoolyard boys whispered to him, though; he knew in a dark place inside of him that he did not really deserve her, that he must have tricked her somehow for her to want him like she did. Not that he was complaining, but it hurt sometimes when he looked at her beautiful, smiling face, and all he could think was, 'She'll be gone as soon as she figures out how worthless I am."

Still, he _was_ clever. That was how he got her to fall in love, he figured. He was clever and witty, and she mistook his awkward hunch and inability to look her in the eye for charming quirks.

One day, he knew, he was going to lose her, and that day was going to break him. He could ignore the barbs that his colleagues threw at him so casually, the way they overlooked him. It had hurt for a while, when he first became a solicitor, how no one ever seemed to notice how clever he was, how different and smart his ideas could be, if he would just be allowed to play them out. They only noticed his failed cases, only laughed and thought him a fool. They reminded him constantly that boys never really stopped being petty, hateful creatures, that just because he got nicer clothes and a pretty girl didn't mean he was allowed to be one of them. But their words had dulled with time, become an easily ignorable routine.

If Rachel left, though, she would take with her everything that made him something.

When he was thirty, Nick Cutler met the man who would change his life. Hal Yorke, an unassuming name attached to a somewhat forgettable face. At least, that's what Nick thought, until that face was burned forever into his memory as the eyes turned dead black and fangs appeared, sinking into his skin and burning away _Nick Cutler_, worthless overlooked solicitor for petty criminals, and replacing him with just Cutler, a not-man who had finally been noticed. Hal Yorke remade him, and once his screams subsided and his new reality sank in, Cutler knew that he would give anything to make sure that Hal never regretted his decision.

Hal promised Cutler that he would be great, that his name would be remembered forever, and Cutler knew that his time had finally come. He would finally be able to show someone how clever he was, and Hal would be proud as he ruled with Cutler by his side. Hal saw something in him worth nurturing, worth having, worth wanting. An ancient, remarkable being saw something worthwhile in him, and for the first time, Cutler found something worthwhile in himself.

Maybe he did deserve Rachel, after all.


	2. Chapter 2

No matter how he tried to please Hal, Cutler was too weak, still just a failure. Hal didn't even sneer this time, as he dropped the third woman since his transformation to the ground, blood drained from her neck and not a drop on Cutler. He just looked disappointed. It stung even more than the sneers had. Cutler had never had someone care enough about him to be disappointed before. No one but Rachel, of course, but she had never been disappointed.

"Eventually, I will expect you to kill your own food," Hal said, walking past Cutler and leaving him to drag the body to their car. Cutler ducked his head in acquiescence of the inevitable. He forced himself to lift the body of the now dead woman, nearly choking on the smell of blood that filled their air, such delicious contrast to the horror of her mangled flesh. How was he supposed to kill someone? He had never even defended a murderer in court; he wasn't senior enough, and anyway his superiors all hated him. Now Hal expected him to actually kill, to commit murder. As much as Cutler wanted to please Hal, to make him proud of his decision, he could never bring himself to kill the men and women that Hal brought him.

Each time he failed, there was a stab of disappointment as Hal became colder, visibly lost interest in the new recruit. Cutler hated himself for screwing up this one chance to prove to somebody that he was worthwhile.

The day that Hal and several of his lackeys showed up at Cutler's house, he had not had blood in days. Hal had deliberately cut him off, letting him know that he could have more to drink when he got it himself. And he had tried, so hard. Three women he had stalked in grimy bars and disgusting alleys, dressed in shabby clothes and telling himself the whores deserved it. No matter how clever his arguments were, though, he could not convince himself to kill.

He had not anticipated this; there was no clever way to run away and hide from the death that brought him the only food he wanted. It was driving him mad, and the lack of blood had him shaky and restless, something Rachel had noticed. She gave him a lingering, worried look as he shooed her out of the room and took Hal and the others down to the basement to discuss "business."

As soon as he saw the glass of blood they set on an old rickety table by the wall, he allowed himself to hope. Hal was his friend, and surely he knew that Cutler was not a killer. He could give them legal advice, help them hide bodies and cover up their existence, but he could not kill. Surely Hal was relenting. After all, he had been chosen originally for his clever ways of defending people in court, not for his ability to tear their throats out. He reached gratefully for the glass.

Hal's hand on his arm dashed those hopes. It was a cold, unyielding hand, like the rest of Hal, and Cutler remembered that Hal was not the type to relent on anything. Hal was testing him again, and Cutler knew this new test would be even worse than anything he had been asked for so far. It would be both punishment for his failures and a test of whether he was ready to comply yet. Cutler didn't know if he could pass.

He didn't expect it to be impossible, though.

"Fucking kill her."

Cutler stopped breathing for a moment at the words. There had been fear when Rachel showed up on the stairs, then relief as Hal acted the perfect gentleman. Now the fear had returned tenfold, an icy hand squeezing his lungs and his heart. Not Rachel. He couldn't kill her. "Not my wife," he gasped, and it hurt how easily Hal accepted this further failure. When the others left, his knees gave out and he wanted to weep as he gulped down the glass of blood on his counter, hating himself for how relieved he was that they had left this small mercy. He barely noticed Hal's parting words. There would be punishment for this, he was sure of it. Still, as long as Rachel was alright, he could bear punishment. In that moment, he promised himself that he would not let Hal down again. The next time he was asked to kill, he would do it. He would show Hal that he could be strong, that there was no reason to threaten his wife, because he could do this. He could do this.

It was two more weeks of bloodless agony before he received the summons from Hal. He was to head over to an upscale club owned by some other vampires immediately after work. His first instinct was to run, to get home, take Rachel, and leave this stupid life he had stupidly accepted. However, he remembered his resolve, and stayed. This was his chance to prove his worth to Hal, to finally pass the test and prove that Hal was right to choose him, that he didn't need to hurt Rachel because Cutler was strong.

Hal was smiling when Cutler arrived. He treated Cutler with an oddly contained excitement as he passed him a small glass filled with blood. Cutler smiled back in uncertainty as he took the glass. At Hal's unspoken, oddly smiling urging, he drank it back in one go. There was a moment of panic as he wondered if it was wolf blood, if Hal had decided that he was truly worthless and had brought him here to die, but no. There was no burn as the blood went down, only sweet relief from the cravings that plagued him constantly.

The laughter at his actions confused him, but he kept smiling as best he could, hating the stutter as he asked what they were laughing about. As clever as he was, the situation unnerved him because he could not understand what was going on. It reminded him of the cruel boys on the playground in grade school, who would laugh as they mocked him for everything he could not control. Hal seemed so at ease, so unlike the harsh, disappointed god that Cutler was becoming used to, and he found that this Hal scared him so much more. He followed in his awkward, hunched over way as they led him through a door in the back of the club and down to a basement. They were still laughing.

When he saw the body, his mind went blank. There wasn't even horror, the scene before him had to be a dream. Hal's voice, his claim that Cutler had been set free, it was a nightmare. Nothing more. He couldn't breathe, and only in dreams could a person sit on the floor not breathing and still see just fine, still hear the drip of blood into pretty crystal containers.

When Hal left, the others left with him, and Cutler sagged to the floor, unable to hold himself up without their aid. The first sob caught him by surprise. Why should he cry, when it was just a dream? Tomorrow, he would wake up next to Rachel. He would wake up to her beautiful smile and tell her about this horrible dream he'd had, and she would hold him close, comfort him and promise that she was still there. Everything was going to be alright. His tears felt hot and wet on his face, but his heart didn't beat and he couldn't breathe.

It was all just a dream, even if it wasn't. Even covered in blood, Rachel was beautiful, and Cutler had to admit he'd always known she would leave one day. He didn't deserve her anyway. Hal had set him free, but it didn't change who he was. He would never be worth anyone sticking around.

Pathetic. Weak. Failure.


End file.
